


Sarge

by Robin Hood (kjack89)



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Death Threats, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, M/M, security detail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 13:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21198647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/Robin%20Hood
Summary: Vanessa Hadid sighed heavily and steepled her fingers together before looking closely at Carisi. “So if I’ve got this right,” she said, disapproval clear in every syllable, and Carisi cringed, avoiding her gaze, “you’ve been on the job for all of, what? Six weeks now? And you’re already getting death threats?”Carisi winced. “I dunno if I’d call ‘em death threats,” he mumbled, the tips of his ears flushing red.Carisi gets assigned a security detail of his own, one that seems hellbent on ruining any semblance of his dating life.





	Sarge

**Author's Note:**

> Based loosely on episode 1 of the new Amazon series, Modern Love, because I watched it by chance and I just couldn't not.
> 
> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

Vanessa Hadid sighed heavily and steepled her fingers together before looking closely at Carisi. “So if I’ve got this right,” she said, disapproval clear in every syllable, and Carisi cringed, avoiding her gaze, “you’ve been on the job for all of, what? Six weeks now? And you’re already getting death threats?”

Carisi winced. “I dunno if I’d call ‘em death threats,” he mumbled, the tips of his ears flushing red.

Vanessa lifted one of the printed emails from her desk and read it out loud. “You should have stayed a fucking cop,” she said, deadpan. “Then you might be able to stop the bullet I’m going to put in your head.”

“Not sure why he thinks me being a cop would stop a bullet, but—”

“But nothing, Carisi. This is serious.” Vanessa sighed again. “Death threats are a part of the job, you and I both know that, but these—” She jabbed a finger at the stack of printouts Carisi had provided her after much cajoling. “—these are personal. Someone has a vendetta, and since the last thing this office needs is its newest ADA getting gunned down in the streets—”

“Your concern is touching,” Carisi muttered sullenly.

Vanessa ignored him. “I asked your former boss how she would handle it.”

Carisi looked up at her, his eyes widening with something like panic. “You asked Liv?”

“Is there a problem with me asking Capt. Benson?” Vanessa asked mildly.

“No, of course not, it’s just…” Carisi trailed off, looking miserable. “She gets all protective, and I promise, Ms. Hadid, I don’t need any of the things she undoubtedly suggested—”

“She suggested I run the threats by Threat Assessment,” Vanessa told him. “And I did. And we’ll be following their recommendation.” She smiled somewhat grimly. “So if you have a problem with that, you get to be the one to take it up with Threat Assessment.”

Carisi, who had gone a dozen rounds with threat assessment back when Barba was getting threats, blanched. “I’d rather take it up with Liv,” he muttered.

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Vanessa said, gathering the papers together and tucking them into a file folder. “Your security detail will be headed by Sgt. James Gallagher — he’s been on the force for 35 years, and I’ve been assured that he won’t let you somehow talk your way out of this. He’ll meet you at your office this afternoon and discuss the arrangement of your security detail.”

Carisi huffed a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said, well aware he sounded petulant and not particularly caring. “Can I go back to work now?”

Vanessa pursed her lips but jerked her head in a nod, and Carisi stood up and made his escape before she could change his mind. He fished his phone out of his pocket and was halfway through dialing Barba’s number — because if there was anyone who could commiserate, it’d be Barba — when he remembered that they hadn’t really spoken recently.

And he figured this was one subject that wouldn’t be a good ice breaker.

Instead, he called Liv. “Capt. Benson,” he said with all the disapproval he could muster when she picked up.

“That’s scary,” Olivia said mildly.

Carisi frowned. “What?”

“For a moment there, you sounded like Barba.” Olivia chuckled at her own joke, which gave Carisi time to recover. “So what can I do for you, Counselor?”

“I hear you’re to blame for the 24/7 security detail that’s about to start tailing me.,” Carisi said sourly.

Olivia’s tone turned serious. “Your boss passed along some of the threats,” she told him, her voice low. “And I know you can take care of yourself, but Carisi, for once, let the security detail do their jobs, ok? For our sake, since we’re not allowed to look into this.”

Carisi sighed. “If it’ll really mean that much to you—”

“It will,” Olivia told him firmly. “I’m running out of excuses to tell Noah about why his favorite uncles keep walking out of his life.”

Carisi sucked in a breath. “Christ, Liv,” he managed. “Hitting below the belt there, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” Olivia said, sounding a little smug. “But if I hear you’ve slipped your security detail, I’m putting an APB out on you and sending Fin to track you down.”

It was not an idle threat, and Carisi sighed again, starting towards his desk. “Fine,” he said. “Just as long as the cop they stuck me with doesn’t end up being some awful—”

He broke off with a strangled yelp when he almost walked smack into someone standing at his desk. “Uh, Liv, I’ll call you back,” he said quickly, hanging up and hoping that his heart would stop hammering. “Uh, can I help you?”

“ADA Carisi?” the older man standing at his desk asked, and Carisi eyed him warily, taking in the man’s sergeant uniform, his bristly mustache, thinning hair and clearly expanding waistline.

“Sgt. Gallagher, I assume?” he asked with a sigh, reaching out to shake the man’s hand. “I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

He made as if to go around him to sit down but the sergeant shifted to block his way. “Forgive me for saying,” the sergeant said sternly, “but you should really check my credentials before assuming who I am.”

Carisi refrained from rolling his eyes, but just barely. “Fine,” he muttered. “Can I see your ID?” The sergeant instantly handed it over and Carisi glanced at it before handing it back. “Great, now that that entirely unnecessary step is out of the way—”

“I understand you may not be taking these threats seriously, Mr. Carisi, but I promise I do.”

Again, Carisi barely managed to stop from rolling his eyes. “And you really think someone’s gonna get through security here at One Hogan Place with a weapon they can use to attack me?” he asked, exasperated. “I know you got a job to do, Sgt. Gallagher, and I respect that, but I got a job to do, too.”

“Call me Sarge.”

Carisi blinked. “Sorry?”

Sgt. Gallagher’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. “Call me Sarge,” he repeated. “We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, Counselor, so you might as well have something shorter to call me.”

Carisi eyed him warily before shrugging. “Fine, then you can call me Sonny. And, uh, unless you need something urgently, I’ve got eight briefs I need to go over before noon, so…”

He trailed off and Sarge nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll just be waiting over there.” He jerked his head towards a seat about twenty feet away.

“Is that entirely necessary?” Carisi asked.

“Until Threat Assessment says otherwise—”

“Of course,” Carisi sighed. “Fine. Just. Stay outta my way.”

“As much as I can, I promise I will,” Sarge said, and Carisi warily watched as he made his way over to the chair before sighing and shaking his head, looking down at the files on his desk. 

Instead, his eye caught the picture from Billie Rollins’ baptism not too long ago, and a small smile tugged at the corners of Carisi’s mouth as he glanced at Fin, Rollins, and Olivia. And Noah, and Carisi’s heart clenched painfully at the memory of what Olivia had said.

Sighing once more, he turned back to his work. Whatever would happen with his hopefully very short-lived security detail, Carisi would make the best of it.

It was the least he could do.

* * *

“Headed home?” Sarge asked from the front of the squad car and Carisi glanced up from the email he was scanning on his phone to blink at him.

“Huh?” he said, before realizing what Sarge had asked. “Oh, uh, yeah, gonna drop off my stuff and then change, but after that, I got a date tonight.”

Sarge nodded and put the car into gear and Carisi blanched as realization hit. “You’re not gonna on this date with me, are you?” he asked.

“Of course not,” Sarge said, and Carisi relaxed until he added, “But I will be there, in the restaurant or bar. Just in case the little lady decides to pull something.”

This was Carisi’s worst nightmare, but he had resolved that once he left NYPD, he was no longer going to hide this part of himself. “The little gentleman, actually,” he corrected, trying to keep his tone as mild as possible and trying to ignore the flush he could feel spreading across his face.

If Sarge was surprised by that, he didn’t show it. “Either way, you’ll barely notice I’m there,” he said instead, and Carisi just jerked a shrug, too tired to try and argue that the entire situation was patently ridiculous. Instead, he stared out the window, thinking particularly dark thoughts about homophobia in the NYPD. 

Sarge said something but Carisi missed it, and he frowned slightly, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. “Sorry?”

“Y’know, my daughter’s gay.” Carisi stared blankly at him, and Sarge shrugged. “Just in case you thought I cared.”

“Oh, uh…” It didn’t seem particularly polite for Carisi to tell him that he didn’t, and besides, it wasn’t quite the truth anyway.

Thankfully, he was saved by having to say anything more by Sarge asking, “So who’s the guy? What’s he like?”

Carisi glanced at him again, wary despite what Sarge had said, but the man was staring out at the road, so he shrugged and settled back in. “He’s an investment banker or something,” Carisi said dismissively. “A mutual friend set us up and that’s almost always a disaster.”

Sarge let out a huff of what might’ve been very dry laughter. “Can’t say I’ll complain if your night ends early,” he said. 

Carisi half-smiled, remembering far too well when he’d told Barba much the same thing, though at the time, as a member of Barba’s security detail, he’d been trying to get the man to go home from work at a reasonable hour.

A losing battle if ever Carisi had fought one.

“Y’know, I was once lead on an ADA’s security detail,” he said, a little abruptly, and Sarge glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

“Oh yeah? Was he as big of a pain in the ass as you’re probably gonna be?”

Carisi laughed. “Worse,” he assured him. “It was ADA Rafael Barba, and I assume his reputation precedes him.” Sarge’s chuckle was the only confirmation he needed. “God, he really was a pain in the ass. He tried to slip his security detail on an almost daily basis. Probably took a decade off my life trying to keep him alive before someone tried to kill him.”

“And yet you didn’t request a transfer off his case?”

Carisi shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “For all of his, uh, idiosyncrasies, for lack of a better word, he was a good man. And he’d been really good to me when I was in law school, letting me shadow him and helping me study for the Bar. Figured keeping him alive was the least I could do.”

Sarge nodded slowly. “Sounds like you two were close.”

It wasn’t pitched as a question but Carisi still shrugged in response. “I guess you could say he was my mentor or something, but, uh, we were almost close to friends at that point.” He looked out the window again without seeing any of the buildings that they drove past, instead picturing late nights spent in Barba’s office and drinks shared at Forlini’s, both when Carisi was on his security detail and not. “Or something like that, anyway.”

“You were friends?” Sarge asked, and Carisi blinked at the somewhat unintended use of past tense.

“Oh, uh…” He trailed off and shrugged again. “We lost touch. When he left the DA’s office.”

It wasn’t a lie, not really.

It also wasn’t anywhere close to the full story, but Carisi was saved from having to say more by Sarge pulling up in front of his apartment building. Carisi started to open the door then hesitated, remembering walking Barba up to his apartment every night, mostly under the pretense of needing to do a sweep before allowing Barba in to his own apartment. “You need to clear my place?”

“No need,” Sarge said, and Carisi brightened before he realized.

“There’s a uni stationed outside my apartment, isn’t there?”

Sarge just gave him a slightly grim smile. “I’ll be waiting outside the front door,” he said in lieu of answering. “There’s an unmarked on each end of the block, and a continuous foot patrol.”

“How is this not an overwhelming waste of NYPD resources?” Carisi asked, exasperated.

“You’ll have to take it up with—”

“With Threat Assessment, I know, I know,” Carisi grumbled. He gave Sarge a withering look. “Try not to frighten my date off before we even get to go on the date.”

Sarge chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Which was not, altogether, particularly reassuring, and Carisi sighed as he made his way inside, tempted once again to call Barba.

Mostly to verify that he hadn’t been this insufferable when he was in charge of Barba’s security detail.

* * *

Luckily, Carisi had a date to take his mind off things, a date that went much better than his dire prediction had foreseen. Better enough that when the guy — Michael — asked to walk him home, he said yes without thinking.

That is, until they got back to Carisi’s and he spotted Sarge stationed outside his apartment building door, having evidently beaten them back, and he sighed, stopping so suddenly that Michael almost kept right on walking. “Problem?” Michael asked, with something like amusement.

“No, I just—” Carisi glanced over Michael’s shoulder at Sarge, who was staring directly at them. “I, uh, I figured you could, uh, say goodbye to me here.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “I said I’d walk you to your door,” he said, looking behind him. “Don’t you live just up there?”

“Yeah, but it’s ok,” Carisi said. “You, uh, you don’t have to.”

Michael looked equal parts amused and confused. “What, is your dad waiting outside with a shotgun?” he teased, and Carisi winced.

“I mean, not quite, but—”

Again Michael glanced behind him, this time with recognition. “Ah. Your bodyguard.”

Carisi, who had casually and very vaguely mentioned to Michael that he had a temporary security detail because of work, flushed. “Security detail, but, uh, yeah,” he muttered. “It’s – look, it’s hard to explain, but—”

His muttered explanation was cut off by Michael leaning in and kissing him, and it was with instinct alone that Carisi pushed him away, something like panic spiking in his veins. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Kissing you,” MIchael said, making as if to do it again, but Carisi planted a hand on his chest to stop him.

“Look, it’s not that I’m not, y’know, flattered, but here and now isn’t exactly—”

“Do you care what Grandpa Cop thinks?” Michael asked.

Carisi rolled his eyes. “Of course not, but—”

Michael kissed him again, and this time, Carisi let him, kissing him back for a long moment before finally pulling away. He gave him a small smile. “I had a good time tonight.”

“So did I,” Michael said. “Your security detail aside, at least.” Carisi rolled his eyes again and Michael laughed. “So you want to do this again sometime?”

“Sure,” Carisi said. “I should be free tomorrow night.”

MIchael grinned. “Ok,” he said, kissing him once more. “I’ll call you.”

Carisi half-smiled as he watched him walk away, then turned to make his way to his apartment building. “Goodnight, Sarge,” he said pointedly when he got to the door.

“I don’t like him.”

Carisi paused, his hand on the doorknob. “Beg your pardon?” he said, scowling at Sarge, who didn’t look remotely perturbed.

“I don’t like him,” Sarge repeated with a shrug. “He’s a weak man with no self-control, and he’s not a good fit for you.”

Carisi stared at him. “And you could tell all this despite never being closer than 20 feet to him?”

Sarge shrugged again. “In this line of work, you learn to read people.” Carisi rolled his eyes and made as if to head inside, pausing when Sarge added, “He won’t call you.”

“Pretty sure he will,” Carisi told him. “We had a great time tonight, he laughed at all my stupid jokes, and he kissed me goodnight. He’s definitely calling.”

Sarge shook his head. “He won’t call.”

“Want to bet on it?” Carisi asked waspishly.

“I make it a point not to bet on a certainty,” Sarge told him. “It’s against my morals.”

Carisi glared at him. “He _ will _ call,” he said through clenched teeth.

Sarge just looked at him evenly. “Do you even want him to, after that little…” He jerked his head down the street to where Michael had kissed him goodnight, and Carisi flushed.

“Look, he just took me by surprise, ok? I’m just – I’m not used to being out around other cops. So cut me — and him — some fucking slack.” 

Without another word, he brushed past Sarge, ready to get up to his apartment and away from this whole situation. But even when he was inside his apartment, irritation seemed to crawl under his skin, and without even thinking, he grabbed his phone and texted the first person he thought of. _ Was I this bad when I was on your security detail? _

He realized only after sending the text that Barba would have no idea what he was talking about, since they had barely talked in months, and he stared at his phone with something like panic, debating how best to explain what exactly had brought this text on.

But before he could send any kind of explanation, Barba texted him back. _ I have absolutely no context for this question but I can say with complete confidence, you were worse. _

Despite himself, Carisi smiled, sitting down on his bed. _ I don’t know, Sgt. Gallagher might be giving me a run for my money. _

He barely needed to wait for a response this time. _ How about we back up and start from the beginning _.

_ With why I need a security detail? _

_ No, I figured you wouldn’t last long as an ADA without pissing someone off. _ Carisi huffed a laugh as his phone buzzed with a second text from Barba. _ I was thinking more like, hi. Good to hear from you. How have you been? _

_ Oh, you know, another day, another death threat_, he texted back, smiling down at his phone. _ How about you? _

_ Never thought I’d echo what Rita Calhoun told me during my own experience with death threats, but the one nice thing about the private sector is that I don’t really have to deal with that so much_, Barba returned. _ Of course, on the flip side, I also make three times as much money and work half the hours, but... _

Carisi laughed again, settling back against the pillows on his bed. _ Definitely sounds like you got the short end of the stick there. _

_ Well now that the pleasantries are out of the way, how about you tell me about those death threats? _

Carisi spent the rest of his evening texting back and forth with Barba. It was only when he was drifting off to sleep over two hours later that he realized Michael had never called.

* * *

By the time he had to head to work the next day, Michael still hadn’t called — a fact apparently not lost on Sarge. “Any news from Michael?” he asked as he drove toward One Hogan Place, and Carisi sighed, staring sourly out the window.

“Honestly, I haven’t even checked,” he lied. “It’s not like I even care that much, y’know. It’s not my whole life or anything.”

Sarge didn’t say anything, but Carisi was pretty sure he could see him smirking in the rearview mirror. 

When they got to One Hogan Place, Sarge turned around to tell Carisi, “There’s an officer waiting to escort you inside. I’ll be back to pick you up at the end of the day, but I’m on call if you need anything.”

Carisi jerked a nod, fully aware of how this process worked, and went to open the door, but before he could, Sarge added casually, “Oh, and Sonny?”

“Yeah?”

“Have a good day.”

Carisi gritted his teeth. “You too,” he ground out before getting out of the car. 

Despite himself, he glanced down at his phone as soon as he was out, completely unsurprised to see zero missed calls. “Goddamnit, Sarge,” he muttered, before shoving his phone into his pocket and making his way inside.

* * *

When Carisi had originally hoped that his move to the DA’s office would be accompanied by slightly more manageable hours, thus freeing him up to actually have a social life outside of the office, but in retrospect, given Barba’s hours, he wasn’t sure how he’d gotten that impression. It didn’t help that he was the least senior attorney, which made him, once again, the perpetual new guy.

All of this left him swamped at work, which did at least have the benefit of making it easier to get over the sting when Michael never in fact called. 

It also made it easier to ignore the gradual ramp up in threats, including a few that he found hand-delivered to his desk, and the fact that his security detail was not going anywhere anytime soon.

Still, moving on from the Michael incident also got him to move past Sarge’s prescient comments, at least for the most part, and, inevitably, when they ran out of small talk on the ride to Carisi’s from One Hogan Place, they turned to talking about themselves.

Sarge was a Mets fan, just like Carisi, and had even been in the stands for Game 5 of the 1969 World Series, though he admitted he didn’t remember much. “Still,” Carisi told him, slightly in awe. “You breathed the same _ air _ as the Miracle Mets.”

And when they eventually ran out of baseball topics, that left them with the only other thing they really had in common — the NYPD. “So, uh, if you don’t mind me asking, why’d you never take the lieutenant’s exam and go for a promotion?” Carisi asked one morning from the backseat of Sarge’s squad car as they were en route to One Hogan Place.

Sarge chuckled. “My wife’s asked the same thing more times than I can count,” he said. “Truth is, I like my job. I like being on the ground, helping people.”

Carisi nodded. “I get that,” he said, a little ruefully. “It’s why I transferred from homicide to SVU. In homicide, the vics were already dead, y’know? No one left to help. But with SVU, well…” He trailed off and made a face. “Of course, you probably think I’m a sellout, moving to the DA’s office.”

It wouldn’t be the first time a cop had told Carisi as much, but to his surprise, Sarge shook his head, his brow furrowed. “I don’t think that at all,” he told him. “I think you’re helping people the best way you know how, and there’s nothing wrong with it being as a lawyer instead of a cop.”

“Really?” Carisi asked, skeptical.

Sarge cracked a smile. “Ok, maybe not ‘nothing’, but you know how us cops feel about lawyers.”

Carisi laughed. “That sounds more like it.”

And this time, when Sarge told him to have a good day and Carisi responded with his usual, “You too”, he found that he actually meant it.

Of course, once his work schedule calmed down slightly, Carisi managed to find himself another date, though this particular date, Dave, wanted to take him to some renowned restaurant in Brooklyn with a chef that, based on the way he said it, Carisi was supposed to know.

He didn’t, but he also didn’t mind getting out of Manhattan for an evening, even though it was immediately complicated by his security detail. Taking public transportation was obviously out, and Sarge nixed taking an Uber or taxi unless he could be there.

Which meant Sarge was going to be driving them, though he was at least kind enough to get an unmarked car for the occasion.

Dave laughed almost nervously as Carisi escorted him to the car, which Sarge was waiting outside of like a chauffeur. If chauffeurs were armed, at least. “I feel like I’m being arrested,” he told Carisi, who laughed lightly.

“Would it make you feel better if I Mirandized you?” he joked.

Dave looked at him blankly. “If you what?” he asked.

Carisi’s smile faltered. “Nevermind,” he said quickly, opening the door for him to get in. Before he could slide in after him, he felt Sarge’s hand on his elbow, pulling him aside. “Sarge, what—”

“I don’t like him,” Sarge told him, and Carisi rolled his eyes.

“You’ve been around him for all of, what, 30 seconds?”

“Even that was too long,” Sarge told him.

Carisi sighed. “Look, he’s perfectly nice, and I don’t see what you could possibly object to—”

“He’s an idiot,” Sarge told him bluntly. “Despite initial appearances, you’re a very intelligent guy with a JD. You deserve someone who can keep up with that.”

Carisi gave him a look. “It’s a first date,” he said impatiently. “And hey, maybe initial appearances will prove you wrong for him, too, ok?”

Sarge grumbled something to himself but nonetheless drove them both to Brooklyn, and Carisi spent the entire ride there avoiding making any eye contact with him in the rearview mirror.

But he also couldn’t get what Sarge had said out of his head, and he ended the date early with a handshake and nothing more. “Was I right?” Sarge asked as he drove them back to Manhattan, and Sonny just grunted, already pulling his phone to text Barba.

_ Another night, another disastrous date. _

_ Uh-oh_, Barba texted back, and Carisi could almost read the glee in those two syllables. _ What did your sergeant say this time? _

_ That my date was an idiot _.

_ Well that’s not very nice, _ Barba returned, and just as Carisi was about to respond with his gratitude for Barba understanding, Barba added, _ The same could be said for any man willing to date you_.

Carisi couldn’t help but grin even as he sent Barba the middle finger emoji, and he glanced up when Sarge said, off-handedly, “Well, either way, you don’t seem too broken up over it.”

“I guess not,” Carisi said, already looking back down at his phone and the dots indicating that Barba was typing a response, still smiling.

* * *

Of course, after the next three guys failed to meet Sarge’s seemingly completely arbitrary standards, Carisi wasn’t smiling quite as much. He wished that he didn’t care what some cop he barely knew thought about his dating life, but he couldn’t help it. He’d grown up with three sisters and the deep-seated need to try to make everyone happy.

Including, apparently, a random cop on the precipice of retirement.

The only bright spot in any of this was getting to text Barba after each failed attempt at a date. In fact, just knowing that his friendship with Barba was somewhat back on track almost made the entire experience worth it.

Emphasis on almost.

But then, miracle of miracles, Carisi’s next date happened to fall on a rare night off for Sarge. The cop who greeted his date, Ted, at his apartment building door, barely spared him a second glance, and no one accompanied them to the restaurant.

It was the most free Carisi had felt in weeks. He found himself laughing and talking more, finally feeling like he could just breathe and just be himself. Sure, Ted wasn’t that interesting, but Carisi didn’t really care.

This wasn’t really about Ted. It was about Carisi finally feeling normal again.

So much so that when Ted casually suggested going back to his place. Carisi didn’t even hesitate before taking him up on it.

But by the next morning, the feeling of freedom had thoroughly disappeared, replaced by both disappointment at mediocre sex and something Carisi didn’t really want to give a name to, something that made his stomach turn when he saw four missed calls from Sarge as well as a text from Barba: _ I assume from the lack of text that this date actually passed muster. Should I say congratulations now or wait until I get the wedding announcement? _

It was guilt, good old Catholic guilt, and as much as he tried to quash it as he quickly picked his clothes up off Ted’s floor, he knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.

It never was.

Ted magnanimously offered to walk him to work and Carisi couldn’t come up with a good excuse for why he shouldn’t, though when they were greeted by Sarge standing in front of One Hogan Place with disapproval written all over his face, he wished he’d been able to think of something. “I guess this is where I leave you,” Ted said, and Carisi nodded.

“Yeah, uh, thanks. For, y’know, everything.”

Ted caught his hand before he could brush past him. “Can I call you?” he asked, somewhat hopefully.

Carisi glanced sideways at Sarge, whose expression hadn’t changed. “Uh, sure, you got my number,” he muttered. With that, he tugged his hand away and made his way toward the building entrance, half-hoping Sarge wouldn’t follow him.

It was too much to hope for. 

“You want to just get it over with?” Carisi said tiredly when Sarge made to block him from going into the building. “Because I’m sure this one isn’t good enough for you, either. No one is.”

“Personally, Counselor, I don’t care that much who you see in your spare time—” Sarge started, but Carisi cut him off.

“Oh, really? That’s news to me. You’ve had an opinion on every single guy I’ve gone on a date with since my security detail started.”

Sarge sighed. “My job is to keep you safe—”

“Yeah, safe from the homicidal maniac who’s threatening to kill me!” Carisi snapped. “These guys aren’t that. So you gotta stop, ok? Stop failing every single guy I go out with. Especially since it’s not like it’s your business.”

“When you’re willing to slip your security detail for one of these buffoons, it becomes my business,” Sarge said firmly. “Especially risking it for this particular one, I mean, c’mon, Sonny—”

“You didn’t even meet him!” Carisi half-shouted. “You don’t have any clue what the fuck you’re talking about, because you don’t even know me, let alone these men!”

Sarge didn’t flinch. “Maybe not, but I haven’t been wrong yet.” He met Carisi’s glare evenly. “Have I?”

Carisi threw his hands up in frustration. “Only because I’ve got you in the back of mind every time I go out on a date!” He scrubbed a hand across his face, trying to get his temper and frustration at the entire situation back under control. “Look, I appreciate your concern, Sergeant, but you’re not my father. You’re not my friend. You’re just some cop who had the misfortune of being assigned this case, and I can get you reassigned at any time.”

“You sure can,” Sarge said calmly. “But maybe you should ask why you haven’t yet, and why it is that you’re hearing my voice in the back of your mind.” Carisi stared at him, and Sarge continued, “And above all, you might want to stop trying to make everyone else happy for long enough to ask yourself if any of these guys would actually make you happy.”

It was one step too far. “What would make me happy is you doing your fucking job and finding who’s behind these death threats so that I never have to listen to you again!” 

Carisi hadn’t even realized he’d been shouting until he noticed people around them stopping and staring, and he took a step back, swallowing hard. “I—” he started, an apology on the top of his tongue, but Sarge cut him off.

“Ok,” he said simply, turning and walking away, leaving Carisi staring after him.

Somehow, Carisi felt even worse than before, and it was on instinct alone that he dug his phone from his pocket to text Barba, to tell him how he’d fucked up or—

But then he saw Barba’s unanswered text from the night before, and guilt again clenched his stomach into knots.

So instead of texting, he put his phone back in his pocket and headed inside One Hogan Place. He had work to do, and his one hope was that work would be enough for him to forget.

* * *

Instead, when he finally got done with work that night — well past the time he could’ve or even should’ve gone home — he was greeted not by Sarge but by a different officer. “Where’s Sgt. Gallagher?” Carisi asked, his brow furrowed.

“Reassigned,” the officer told him, sounding bored, and Carisi’s stomach dropped to somewhere around his knees. “You ready to get out of here?”

They spent the entire ride home in silence.

Carisi had every intention of forgetting the whole thing, but he couldn’t help but feel awful every time he met up with his security escort, still expecting Sarge and instead being greeted by a seemingly endless rotation of different officers.

It was what he had wanted, he told himself firmly. Officers who cared only about doing their job and not getting involved in his personal life.

Which didn’t explain why he still felt like shit with each passing day.

A week or so later, he went on a date as one sort of final attempt to make himself feel better. Instead, when the guy walked him home that night, he hesitated, glancing automatically at where Sarge used to stand, half-wondering what he would have thought of this particular date. “So I had a great time,” his date said, smiling at him. “And I’m willing to keep the evening going if you are.”

“I—” Carisi started, and he was as surprised as anyone when the next word out of his mouth was, “—can’t.” His date looked taken aback and Carisi forced a smile. “Sorry, I have an early meeting tomorrow, but, uh, I had a good time, too.”

“Alright,” his date said amicably, leaning in and kissing his check. “I’ll call you.”

“Sure,” Carisi said, a little hollowly.

He knew he wouldn’t.

And he wasn’t at all surprised when he didn’t.

* * *

“We got him,” the latest officer on his security detail, Officer Martinez, said triumphantly, slapping a case file down on Carisi’s desk, and he glanced up at her, blinking in confusion.

“We got who?” he asked, reaching out automatically for the file.

“The guy making the death threats,” she said, like it was obvious. “He’s the brother of some vic who was accidentally killed in an OIS. Apparently the prosecutor for the case declined to press charges against the officer who shot her, so he’s got a vendetta against cops and prosecutors, and you check both boxes.”

Carisi nodded slowly, scanning the file, his chest clenching at the words OFFICER-INVOLVED SHOOTING staring up at him. With all his years on the force, those cases never got easier, but he couldn’t help but think if he had been the prosecutor, he’d at least have impaneled a Grand Jury. 

He tore his eyes away from the file to glance up at Officer Martinez. “So what do you need from me? You need me to make a statement, or—?”

“Nope,” she told him with a grin that he didn’t return. “I no longer need anything from you, Counselor. This is your official notice that your security detail has been disbanded.”

“Oh,” Carisi said. “Of course. Um—” He stood, hastily, and reached out to shake her hand. “Thank you.”

“Sure thing,” she told him. “Try to keep yourself out of trouble.”

Carisi laughed lightly at that as he sat down.

It was over.

He was free.

He grabbed his phone, half-tempted to text Sarge, but he figured he’d probably hear about it from one of the other officers he worked with.

Instead, he texted Barba. _ Officially got released from my security detail. No more death threats. _

_ Congrats_, Barba texted back. _ How do you plan on celebrating? _

_ I was thinking drinks, _ Carisi texted, hesitating for only a moment before adding, _ Tonight, 8 at Forlini’s? _

He held his breath as he stared down at his phone, then let it all out with a relieved whoosh, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth when he saw Barba’s response.

_ I thought you’d never ask. _

* * *

“Tell me again why we’re going to this thing,” Barba said mildly, more curious than irritated, and Carisi glanced over at him.

“Because,” he said simply.

Barba arched an eyebrow at the lack of an answer before shaking his head slowly. “You’re lucky I love you,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss him lightly before asking, “What are you going to do if I don’t pass?”

Carisi swallowed against the very thought that had plagued him all morning. “I have no fucking idea,” he muttered as they made their way into the pub and shouldered past the bunches of balloons and signs proclaiming HAPPY RETIREMENT JIM!

He grabbed Barba’s hand and laced their fingers together, gratified when Barba squeezed his hand reassuringly as they navigated the crowd, looking for the guest of honor. Carisi relaxed, just slightly when he saw him. “Sarge,” he said in greeting, and Sarge’s eyes widened when he saw who it was.

“Sonny!” he said, reaching out to pull Carisi into a hug. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Carisi shrugged. “Figured the least I could do is pay my respects to the guy who made sure I didn’t die,” he said with a slightly wry smile. “Besides, I, uh, I have someone I want you to meet.” He took a step to the side and tugged Barba forward. “Sarge, this is Rafael.”

If Sarge was surprised, he didn’t show it, just reaching out to shake Barba’s hand. “Rafael Barba, the former ADA?” Sarge asked.

“And current boyfriend,” Barba told him, something cautious in his expression. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, but I hear to make my status official, I have to pass some sort of test from you.”

“You passed,” Sarge said instantly, and Barba relaxed, a relieved smile lighting up his face for a moment before being replaced by something slightly smug.

Carisi glanced between them, startled. “What, just like that?” he asked, ignoring Barba, who was rolling his eyes.

“Just like that,” Sarge said comfortably, and Carisi gaped at him.

“How—”

“I can see it in your eyes when you look at him,” Sarge said easily, and Carisi blinked, glancing automatically at Barba, who was smiling at him. “I was never looking at them, Sonny. I was always looking at you.”

Carisi ducked his head and swallowed, hard, against the emotion welling in his chest. He felt Barba take his hand again and he squeezed it gently before looking back at Sarge, blinking back tears. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Sarge nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re welcome,” he said, before looking at Barba and adding pointedly, “Don’t mess it up.”

“I have no intention to,” Barba promised.

“Now c’mon,” Sarge said, picking his beer bottle up off the bar. “I want you to meet my wife, since I’m pretty sure she doesn’t believe half the stories I’ve told her about you.”

“You told your wife about me?!” Carisi asked, half-mortified, half-amused.

Sarge laughed. “And you told your boyfriend about me,” he pointed out.

Barba gave a hasty cough that might’ve been an attempt at covering a laugh. “He’s got you there,” he told Carisi, who scowled at him.

“Whose side are you on?” he asked waspishly, even as he wrapped his arm around Barba’s shoulders and pulled him close, turning to kiss his temple lightly. 

As relieved as he was that Barba had passed muster, he realized that part of him had known all along that he would. Because it was Barba — because it had always been Barba.

Still, as he and Barba trailed behind Sarge on their way to meet his wife, Carisi knew that he owed it all to Sarge, and he knew he would be forever grateful for the good-natured sergeant who had the fortune of being assigned to his security detail.


End file.
